


In Stone

by phoenixchild



Category: Enjolras - Fandom, Les Miserables, grantaire - Fandom, les mis, victor hugo - Fandom
Genre: Art, M/M, Modern AU, Reincarnation AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 02:40:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1370890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixchild/pseuds/phoenixchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is an art student in modern-day Paris. On a field trip to the Louvre, he becomes entranced by a marble rendition of the Greek god, Adonis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Stone

Grantaire probably didn’t need to go to the museum to sketch Adonis anymore. His hand knew that face by heart now –his god-like visage, the curls of his hair. The delicate, slightly parted lips and passionate eyes. There was a boy-like quality to the marble features that looked almost androgynous, but he had the noble physique of a man. The marble had been carved in nineteenth century France, by a then-unknown artist from Montmartre. Grantaire had Googled everything there was to know about the statue, though little could be found. The artists name, the subject, materials, year, and at long last, the model’s name, etched almost illegibly in the artist’s journals –the only surviving journal to not be lost in flames: Enjolras. 

This Enjolras, this beautiful golden boy with the delicate lips and firey eyes who had posed for this statue, almost two hundred years ago, was what drew Grantaire and held his mind captive. For the first few weeks after seeing him, Grantaire had become obsessed, barely making it to his classes, barely replying to texts –even ones promising a free drink or two. Now he had (thankfully) quenched his passion, just a little. But he still made a habit of frequenting the museum to gaze up at the marble.

Grantaire often wondered why he was so incredibly drawn to this unknown figure, lost in the archives of history. He’d been aware of his boundary-less sexuality for years now, but of course this was something more. In the back of his mind, though he did not believe in such things as reincarnation, Grantaire felt he had known this face before. Loved this face. Perhaps died alongside this face. But he shook off these thoughts as soon as he was aware that he was entertaining them.

There was one afternoon in June that Grantaire did not make it all the way into the depths of the museum to see his beloved god. As he walked through the red rooms of the Louvre, past the hordes of tourists, something stopped him. By the mammoth likeness of France’s own Lady Liberty, surrounded by bloodied revolutionaries, stood a man with the same delicate mouth and blond curls of Grantaire’s own god. He forgot to breathe. He felt pinpricks in his eyes and his lips quiver apart, half in fear and half in reverence. Had his statue heard his prayers and come to life? Impossible. But there was no mistaking that their shared likeness was uncanny. Seeming to feel Grantaire’s astonishment on him, the man looked away from the billowing flag in the woman’s hand, and pierced Grantaire’s eyes with icy blue.

“I’m sorry, have I perhaps met you before?” The blond man asked Grantaire.

**Author's Note:**

> A quick, drunken drabble. Perhaps more to come. Perhaps t be edited. But I'm sure you can infer what happens next.


End file.
